


Mountain memories

by Inky_Scribbles



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Blankets, Character Study, Dissociation, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Langst, Late at Night, Social Anxiety, musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22319848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_Scribbles/pseuds/Inky_Scribbles
Summary: Lance wanders down to the hangars late one night. Blue is waiting for him.
Relationships: Lance & Blue Lion (Voltron)
Kudos: 78





	Mountain memories

**Author's Note:**

> Dissociation, amirite

His feet padded quietly down the gentle slope of the corridor. Gentle blue emergency lights guided him across the floor, casting dim shadows of himself across the walls. The thickest blanket available from his room fell at his ankles, never touching the floor. The only sound was the hollow tap of his feet against the metal floor, and the vague hum of the castle that never left.

When Lance reached the Command room, it was empty and huge. It always seemed so different during the night cycle, when it was dark and most people in the castle were asleep. He allowed his head to tilt into the darkness, watch the ceiling that disappeared into shadow at the apex. The wide windows of the Command room were alight with distant stars, and the spot where Allura usually stood gleamed in their light. The hum was louder here.

He dropped into the lift that lead to the hangars, barely noticing how the feel of standing there was so different. He sat instead, leaning his back against the control panel. The lights were brighter here; that shade of blue that became so familiar out here in space offering its slight comfort.

He found his way through the rest of the castle slowly. Usually, there was so much energy that surrounded heading to the hangars that he could barely take notice of what he was doing. Either they were being attacked, or they were attacking someone else. And it was war. So that was fine.

Except it wasn’t, really. Because when was war ever fine? Lance was so brittle these days. His skin sat so haggardly around his bones, and his bones stood as weakly as dry sponges. He was exhausted. The whole team was exhausted. Every day he woke up and moved around like his body was a giant robot, and the tiny creature inside of him that controlled the robot got smaller and smaller all the time, arms weak and barely long enough to reach the controls.

He heaved himself out of the transport car and pulled his deadweight legs towards the hangar doors, which thankfully opened on their own. Blue purred in his head as he approached, evidently having been expecting him, as she was already stooped low on her belly when he caught sight of her. He took a moment to curl an arm as far as it would go around one of her forelegs, then wandered up into her mouth, feeling almost listless.

He collapsed into the pilot seat, legs propped over one of the handrests the way he usually did. Sitting normally activated the instinct in him that told him to fly, told him that he had to be out there with his team, that he had to protect them. He really wasn’t in the mood for useless adrenaline right now. Existing was so tiring, but staring blankly at the ceiling and waiting for sleep was so boring.

Blue purred deep in his ears, rhythmic and so far in it felt more like she was on the inside of his skull. He curled in on himself so that he could cover more with the blanket. He wished he’d brought a pillow or two.

With a small sigh he allowed himself to close his eyes and let the lids stare at the roof of Blue’s head. The blue of the dashboard controls blurred through them just slightly. She burbled to him quietly, the way she did when he was scared or hurt. Or both.

Eventually, his back got sore and he rolled onto the floor. He knew that the pain of falling should have bothered him more, but it felt so vague and distant that it really didn’t. At least, not as much as it did during the day. Not even as much as watching the others get hurt, and that wasn’t even his own pain.

On a whim, he pushed his blanket under the dashboard and crawled in after, pulling the corners around himself and allowing his eyes to stray over his surroundings at the new perspective - the chair, the entrance to the cockpit behind that, and the details in the corners that he never bothered to notice before. For some reason, the small space was comforting, and he felt the ease of the anxiety he forgot was there falling away.

It was hard to remember, sometimes, that it wasn’t normal to worry so hard about everything. To think them through over and over. To wonder at night if he did well, if they even remembered, if what he did was wrong. The idea of not being this way sounded so nice, but he had never not felt like this.

He couldn’t picture the idea in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> im so tired, i wrote this in like an hour


End file.
